


a dream, a nightmare

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s08e01 Within, F/M, Missing Scene, a memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: What was Scully thinking about when she held Mulder's shirt in "Within"?
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	a dream, a nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the latest X-Files Diaries Podcast.

By the time she reaches Mulder’s apartment, her stomach has settled. Her nerves, however, have not. The keys still in her hand, the metal digging uncomfortably into her skin, she takes in the familiar surroundings. A minuscule part of her, the same one that believed in praying for a puppy as a child, trusted that if she came to his apartment, Mulder would be here waiting for her, in the kitchen, on his couch. Just _here_.

The knot in her stomach tightens as she walks through his untouched apartment. How long has it been since he’s been home? Too long. Yet not long enough for anyone to come in here and clean or take care of his bills. The apartment looks like that night. The last one they spent together. Except for the ring of dust on his desk where his computer should be. She stares at it, her mind unwilling to come up with conclusions or solutions.

She slips the keys into her pocket, ponders her next step. Her feet move on their own volition, but as she passes his bedroom, the door wide open, she pauses. The last time she was in his bedroom, Mulder was with her.

Her mind’s made up; she’s going to leave, call the Gunmen and… her eyes land on his shirt. She can’t look away. If she does, she fears, it might disappear. Just like Mulder did. Her steps are slow and heavy as she makes her way over to where the garment has been tossed aside. Her breath catches as she touches the soft fabric. The nausea returns, keeps a strong grip on her. This time, though, it’s different. She knows it’s not the baby, their child, causing it. The grief manifests inside of her, growing stronger and cumbersome.

It’s not a conscious decision to grip the shirt, to lie down in his bed, her head against his pillow. This is my side of the bed, Scully, she thinks, seeing him grin at her. She doesn’t need to close her eyes to dream of him. It’s faint, but the shirt still smells like him. Involuntary memory, the mental image of Mulder says to her, walking around in her mind, in her last memory of him. She holds the shirt close, wishes she was holding Mulder. Like that night, their last one. I’m just going to close my eyes for one moment, she thinks, dimly remembers uttering the same words that night. _“_

_"Hey,” Mulder’s voice was pure honey, sweet and delicious. Her eyes stayed closed, felt impossibly heavy, but she smiled._

_"_ _You_ _fell asleep on me.”_

_“Did not,” she mumbled, knowing full well that he was right._

_“Why are your eyes closed?” His nose grazed her cheek before his lips did the same. Then he was gone and she opened her eyes, needing to see him. He sat on the bed, wearing a Knicks shirt and a grin._

_"Did_ _you hear a single word I just said?” His smile was distracting. So was his state of undress; in his boxers, hair messy and ready for bed. The bed where she’d been waiting for him for the last half hour or so. She had fallen asleep, listening to him ramble about this and that; her own private lullaby. She’d only heard a few words – Skinner, accounting, hotel rooms, money – and couldn’t make sense of them._

_“Hmm, I heard a few.”_

_“Liar.” She felt his smile against her lips. “How are you feeling?” The change in tone was instant, but his voice remained soft. His thumb stroked her cheek lovingly as he waited for her to speak._

_“Better,” she answered honestly. “It’s just some bug.”_

_“We should take some time off when I’m back from Oregon.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“Are you falling asleep on me again?”_

_“Maybe,” she admitted._

_"I don’t mind boring you to sleep, Scully, and hell, if you want, you can fall asleep on top of me any time you want, but…”_

_“But?” Her eyes were only half open and Mulder’s face was blurry, out of focus. She thought she saw amusement. She knew she saw love._

_“This is my side of the bed, Scully.”_

The memory fades, makes room for a vision, a nightmare. She watches helplessly, paralyzed as Mulder is tortured, screaming out for her. For help. Then, just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by a dreamless slumber.

When she wakes in broad daylight, momentarily confused as to where she is, she remembers neither dream. Not the good, not the bad. For a moment, she wonders what time it is, where Mulder has gone. Realization hits her, a full-blown punch to her gut, as she rolls off the bed. She stands, willing the nausea to stay at bay, and faces her most recent nuisance. “What are you doing here?” she asks Agent Doggett. Her voice is dripping with anger and disappointment. Why is he here, she thinks, when Mulder is not?


End file.
